


smoke break

by apocryphic



Series: mcgenji week 2017 [6]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, McGenji Week, Post-Recall, Shotgunning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2017-12-01
Packaged: 2019-02-09 04:47:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12880464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apocryphic/pseuds/apocryphic
Summary: "Maybe I just enjoy stealing the ones you're already smoking.""An honest thief," McCree muses. "Imagine that."---day 6 of mcgenji week 2017:smoke/ steam





	smoke break

**Author's Note:**

> this one feels very short :thinking: AND IT'S VERY PREDICTABLE but what can u do. this prompt was made for this
> 
> it's also the last one in my series for this week ;_; i know there's one more prompt, but i ran out of time and energy. as i'm posting this i actually need to be doing my neuroscience final, so i'm gonna go do that. ENJOY THOUGH. HAPPY MCGENJI WEEK!!!

It’s half past five in the evening and the sun is rolling down the sky at a deceptively leisurely pace. McCree’s perched on the payload traveling through Numbani, rolling through a simple mission they don't expect much security from since it's just an easy escort (and will hopefully stay that way). The rest of the team's already pushed up to be certain, leaving him to guard the artifacts being transported to the museum. McCree doesn't want to know what strings Winston had to pull to get them able to do a job considering the world — and more importantly, the United Nations — still hates Overwatch without much exception, but he has to wonder briefly if maybe this time around Overwatch is currently considered a private security company. Or something. Winston painting them as something that doesn't break _all_ the laws seems likely enough, anyway.

Shifting around on the payload, McCree sighs and puffs on his cigar. _Talk about selling out_ , he gripes in silence.

Then again, if anyone of note finds out that Jesse McCree is working with Overwatch, _everybody's_ cover is blown, not just McCree's, and not just Overwatch's. So it seems it's in their best interest to pretend to play nice. Even if McCree hates it. Really, he was always built best for the under-the-radar business.

Over the comms, there's a scattered chat going on about nothing here nor there. He thinks that it's something about an Overwatch mission a certain number of years ago that he knows very little about. In any case, McCree isn't paying attention, preoccupied by the snail pace he's moving at, preoccupied by the idleness of it, preoccupied by his own thoughts.

He's not distracted enough not to notice when Genji drops into a crouch in front of him and plucks the cigar right from his mouth.

"'Scuse you," McCree says, raising his brows, stifling his smile.

"Sharing is caring," Genji informs him, cheery. He unlocks and then pulls his faceplate away, revealing the gleam of his prosthetic jaw and the scars lining his skin, all so he can take a drag of the cigar. _McCree's_ cigar. His eyes are shining like he very much recognizes his entitled behavior and thinks it funny — or that he's daring McCree to take it back.

McCree valiantly tries and fails not to be charmed, extending a hand with grabbing fingers. "That's my last one, give it." Then, he adds, "Sharing's caring."

Genji sighs a longing sigh of smoke and dramatics before he passes the cigar over once more, settlings down to sit better beside McCree. Their knees bump with the rattle of the transport coming to a brief pause, thighs pressed together and sides fitting against the other's well enough to suggest familiarity. McCree shuffles closer to Genji, slings an arm over his shoulders and traces the curving edges of his armor with a particularly unhurried touch. With as rushed as they've been lately, trying to recruit others, attempting to solve problems before they happen, having a quiet moment to themselves is nice, even if it's during this piss-poor excuse of a mission.

"Anything exciting ahead?" McCree asks hopefully around the end of the cigar, the slow rise of the smoke looking pretty in the sunset.

"Not in the least." Genji settles more firmly and hums his appreciation when McCree offers the cigar back to him. He takes it and turns his head to press teasing lips to McCree's jaw, even with his sincere reply: "Thank you."

"Sure." McCree tosses a glance over to him after a moment, watching Genji's mouth around the cigar; when he's caught staring by a clever gaze, he just shrugs haplessly instead of pleading ignorance. "The smoke gonna mess with you at all?" he asks in lieu of embarrassing himself. He gestures to his mouth, then vaguely to his lungs.

It’s nothing new for Genji to lean in and steal a couple breaths of smoke, but he’s never snatched it away and smoked from it directly, before. McCree figures it’s only natural of him, as somebody who’s fairly invested in Genji’s well-being, to ask. But Genji only laughs lightly, handing the cigar back.

"No, no more than it does you," he says, sounding amused. "It tempts me often, catching the hint of smoke through the filters. I suspect you would have an itch to scratch too, if you were left within reach of it over time."

McCree, baffled, leans away to eye him. Glowing embers fall from the end of the cigar between them as it hovers there between his fingers loosely. "If you wanted a smoke, all you had to do was say so. Far be it from me to keep you from a vice when it's _my_ bad habit we're talkin’ about."

"How noble." Genji still seems a little like he’s teasing, which either means that he's thrown off by McCree's graciousness or he finds it laughable for such a casual conversation. Or both. That’s also possible; McCree isn’t flawless at dissecting every subtlety Genji’s got up his sleeve. ( _Yet_.) "Maybe I just enjoy stealing the ones you're already smoking."

"An honest thief," McCree muses. "Imagine that."

In the lighthearted pause that follows, he takes a breath of smoke and turns his head to exhale, only to be interrupted when Genji slides his hand to curve around his jaw, fingertips resting at the nape of his neck. McCree freezes, though perhaps it’s more accurate to say that he molds into the touch, simple as it is. Genji places his thumb against McCree's pulse point, pressing gently; in response, his heart stutters at the touch. It's an intimate sort of hold, with Genji's shoulder nudging into his chest and both their bodies turned towards the other. McCree looks back towards him, breath still held between his lips. His lungs start to burn, but whether it’s from the smoke or the growing fire on his skin is up in the air.

Genji's wearing an expectant expression, eyes dancing, smile sly. He reaches with his free hand for the cigar, like all he wanted was to bring McCree to a standstill, but McCree holds it further away and kisses him instead.

It’s the right move, and he knows it is even before Genji hums a tiny thing, but it satisfies McCree. The fingers at his neck tighten nearly imperceptibly, and he lets the smoke escape, feels all alight when Genji borrows his breath. The kiss itself doesn't last long, partially because McCree needs air and partially because Genji seems fascinated suddenly, intent on peering at him even as he looses the smoke he's stolen.

The rest of the team chooses that moment to come around the corner, laughing and talking amongst themselves. Genji slips his hand away, but not without tugging at McCree's hair first in silent approval.

“You beat me to it,” Genji mutters to him, wry.

McCree hides his smirk with the cigar.

 

**Author's Note:**

> this is also kind of a love letter to tanya's fic, [all quiet on the watchpoint front](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7478649). if you've never read it, i highly recommend it <3 it was my first mcgenji fic i ever read and still holds a very important place in my heart and always will


End file.
